


A Sirius Christmas

by abbyvonnormal



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Humor, M/M, PWP without Porn, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-13
Updated: 2010-12-13
Packaged: 2017-11-22 03:59:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/605588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abbyvonnormal/pseuds/abbyvonnormal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus wakes up Christmas morning to an intruder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Sirius Christmas

A long time ago in a galaxy... that’s not how it begins. Damn. Let’s try again.

Once upon a midnight dreary... nope, that’s not it either. Giving it one more go.

Okay, I got it!

*** * * * * * ***

T’was the night before Christmas and all through the flat, not a house elf was stirring, not even Wormtail, a rat.

Down the hall, the portrait of his mum hung without care, in hopes that St. Nick would soon be here.

I ran around the corner with such a clatter, the portrait questions loudly, “Boy, what’s the matter?!?!”

Accio’d my wand and ran down the hall to see, a well-fit, half-dressed Santa – waiting for me.

Peeking quietly near the edge of the wall, no thought clearly in my head, at all.

I drop my wand, no need to fight. This is proving to be one hell of a night.

I stop dead in my tracks and much to my surprise, I see a man in red boxers, worn as a disguise.

There he is, Santa, bent over a quaint rucksack. Now standing tall, the man before me is actually Sirius Black.

I closed the distance between us and prepare for a brotherly embrace, as Sirius’ hand gently caresses my face.

He offers his arms around my waist, kissing and groping – to the bedroom with haste.

Sirius discards his timely disguise, both of us now naked, only to be seen with each other’s eyes.

Gentle touching and kissing overshadowed with pleas, next thing I knew he was down on his knees.

Grey eyes searching mine – whimpers, requests, begging aside. The edge is reached with his tongue as my guide.

He moves up my body, both of us so utterly spent. He looks into my eyes; I look back for a hint.

I try hard not to make a fuss when he leans to my ear and whispers, “Happy Christmas, Remus.”


End file.
